


As You Were

by orphan_account



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Comeplay, D/s themes, F/M, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Power Play, Unsafe Sex, Vaginal Sex, face fucking, potential of getting caught
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Peggy hears the familiar sound of Steve Rogers’ bag hitting the floor outside her office and sighs as she puts the lid on her pen and places it neatly on the desk. This afternoon she’s not going to get anything done."</p><p>Steve comes to Peggy's office routinely and fucks her. That's about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As You Were

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a gift for someone and has not been beta read.

 

Peggy hears the familiar sound of Steve Rogers’ bag hitting the floor outside her office and sighs as she puts the lid on her pen and places it neatly on the desk. This afternoon she’s not going to get anything done.

 

He knocks just like he always does, lighter than anyone would ever expect for such a huge man. But that’s all a part of the mythos of Captain America: so shy and quiet when he’s off the battlefield. Peggy knows better, though. 

 

“Come in,” she says, and the door opens. Steve looks as much of a poster boy as always, charming smile playing on his lips as he asks,

“Do you have a minute?” 

 

“I’m quite busy, Rogers,” she replies, gesturing to the stack of personnel files on her desk. Should have put them out of the way already, come to think of it; they’re only going to end up on the floor. 

 

Steve’s smile turns into a smirk. “Won’t be long,” he promises, shutting the door behind him. He doesn’t lock it but then, he never does. 

 

Peggy swallows as Steve comes over. In his service uniform he looks too perfect, too clean cut and smart for the possessive look in his eyes as he looms over her. 

 

“I really am rather busy, Rogers,” she says. “Can it wait?” Steve doesn’t reply, just comes to stand behind her before slowly pulling her rolling chair out from the desk. 

 

She’s turning her head to look at him when his hand is suddenly around her throat, holding her right where she is. “No, it can’t wait,” he says quietly, urging her upwards. 

 

Once she’s standing, he kicks the chair out of the way, hand still firmly around her neck. He’s not pressing very hard, his hand is just a presence, reminding her of just how much he could force her if he really wanted to. If she really wanted to resist. 

 

He brushes his nose against her temple, holding her to his chest, and she inhales sharply when she feels the hardness of his cock pressed against her. She’s facing the door, that unlocked door into the main office, filled with people who’d be scandalised if they knew what was happening. She stays where she is, rooted to the spot as Steve begins to undo the buttons of her shirt. Sometimes he undresses her completely, but for now he’s content to open her shirt and pull her bra away before pinching her nipples hard enough to make her cry out through gritted teeth. He knows how hard it is for her to keep quiet when he’s as rough as he is, but that’s all part of it for him. Maybe for her, too.

 

No one comes knocking though, the few times they have been interrupted, Peggy’s just called out that they should come back later, or that she’s working on something confidential, which is sort of true. 

 

He roughly turns her and pushes til she’s leaning back against the table, wincing when he squeezes her tits and then bites each nipple in turn. He pulls at her skirt too, til it’s hitched up enough to let him get his hand on her knickers, looking up to her face with a satisfied smirk when he feels how wet she is, how wet she’s been since she heard his bag flop to the floor outside. 

 

“Seems like you need it just as much as I do,” he says, coming up to bite at her neck. He pushes her down onto the desk and the files cascade onto the floor just as she’d predicted they would. But she doesn’t care, not when Steve’s pulling at her knickers til they’re dangling from one foot and he’s sliding his fingers inside her. 

 

“I used to think you were such a nice boy,” she says (gasps, really), when he brings his hand to his mouth to lick it. “Don’t know where I got that idea from.”

“Well I thought _you_ were a lady,” he whispers, as worried about someone walking in on this as Peggy even if he pretends not to care, looking her over as he unzips his trousers and fists his hard cock. Peggy’s toes curl at the sight of it. “Had no idea you were such a whore.”

 

She’s about to say something back, like, takes one to know one, or ‘I’ve had better’, but before she can speak, he’s flipping her over - just about picking her up before repositioning her to his liking and pushing his cock into her. She’s so wet he just slides right in, filling her up and scratching an itch that only he seems to be able to reach. 

 

Her breasts press against the desk as he fucks her, the wood solid enough that the only thing that makes a sound is their flesh slapping together and her breathless pants as the air’s pushed out of her lungs. Steve doesn’t get out of breath - he can go for hours when there’s time, though there never _is_ time, and something about this being in the office rather than some hostel or - god forbid - a tent, makes it alright somehow. As if it’s just a part of the job. She won’t get attached, when Steve goes back to America or gets killed in some awful explosion or whatever godforsaken thing it might be, it won’t hurt nearly as much as if it’s just her _job_.

 

“So wet,” he grunts, voice hot in her ear before he fists his hand in her hair for better access to bite at her neck. He’s making a deep red bruise that’ll serve as reminder to this, even if it is hidden beneath layers of well pressed wool and cotton. Sometimes this all seems like a dream, but the lovebites prove it’s real when Peggy’s at home at night, alone with only the marks to keep her company. 

 

She gasps on a particularly hard thrust, and not for the first time is she worried he’ll come inside her as he sometimes threatens to do. But he gives her neck one last bite that makes her cry out anew before straightening up and holding onto her hips to fuck her hard and deep and fast. 

 

As soon as she’s almost used to this position, Steve pulls out and yanks her back onto her feet, holding her up because her legs can barely support her. He reaches down past her bunched up skirt to feel how wet she is again before snorting and nipping at her earlobe. It’s a gentle touch that only serves to underline just how rough he's being, and as sooner has she registered that, she’s being pushed onto her knees. Steve wastes no time before shoving his cock into her mouth, holding the base of her skull so he can fuck her face. She gags a little when he pushes himself into her throat, but he’s all but trained her gag reflex out of her by now, so the only truly difficult part is when he tells her, “Touch yourself.”

 

It’s hard to coordinate with Steve filling up all of her senses, but she really is wet when she reaches down to do as she’s told, rubbing herself and moving her hips as she moans around his cock. Her makeup is ruined, she’ll have to redo it all once he’s finished, but as tears leak out of her eyes as his dick cuts off her air supply for just a hair of a second too long, she’s not thinking about anything else but this moment right now. 

 

That’s why she lets him do this, that’s why she likes it; sweet long afternoons of _lovemaking_ are for another time, another life. Hard and fast and bright are for now, she thinks, as he pulls out of her mouth dragging strings of saliva with him. He slides his cock all over her lips, smudging her lipstick ever more as he jerks himself off to completion. She’s still rubbing herself, biting her swollen lips when he comes, hot splashes on her tits like always, like he saves it up just for her. He gasps breathless noises when he comes, small and sweet, belying the brutality of what got him to this point. She comes moments later, as he pushes his cock back into her mouth for her to suck the last few drops right out of him, feeling come dripping down her chest in the most debauched way.

 

“Slut,” he murmurs fondly, thumb swiping through the mess on her face before pushing that into her mouth as well. Peggy just glares up at him, feeling more sated than she has in weeks.

 

-

 

He helps her up, holding her as they both work to get her knickers back on and pull her skirt down. She sits on the desk as he wipes her chest, though eventually they just pull the shirt off and use that to get the last of it, as it’ll need to be washed anyway. He’s like a chastened boy scout, polite and sweet, making amends for the mess he undoubtedly caused. There’s still a wickedness to it though, as if he’s gotten away with something and he’s waiting to be admonished. Peggy watches him as he fusses and frets, folding her shirt neatly even if it is destined for the wash. He wipes her face, gentle as can be, but she'll redo it all later anyway with the makeup she keeps in the drawer. It’s fine - they’re both fine and alive and whole, and she just wants a moment of quiet together before the world intrudes once more. 

 

“Rogers, give it a rest,” she says once he’s half buttoned up the clean shirt he’s put on her, reaching out to grab his wrist and pull him towards the chair. He sits, looking at her warily where she's still perched on the desk above him. Peggy cups his jaw before leaning in to kiss him softly. It’s unfair how all of this barely ruffles a hair on his head when it so ruins her, though of the two of them, Steve seems the most affected afterwards, if only on the inside. “Shh,” she says, reaching to pull his chair closer and press a kiss to the top of his head. 

 

They don’t say much, both of them favouring actions over words, but they do stay in that quiet peace for a long while, long enough that the clock strikes an hour and startles them. 

 

“Back to work,” says Peggy, straightening Steve’s shirt as he sits back. She hops off the desk and tucks her shirt in before reaching for her compact mirror - it’ll only take a moment to fix her hair and makeup, and she sets about powdering her face before carefully reapplying some liner. Red lipstick is the last thing to go on, the final piece of her own battle armour, and when she’s done, there’s no trace of what just happened, aside from the messy heap of files that Steve has so kindly picked up, and the shirt that she’s already buried at the bottom of her handbag. 

 

“Good afternoon,” she says curtly, but she returns Steve’s grin when he salutes before nodding towards the door. “As you were, soldier.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
